My Little Bat
by KrustyKruton
Summary: Since they were six, Bruce and Jack could speak to one another in their minds. They grow together and even fall in love, bit it all changes when the ability is lost during the deaths of Bruces' parents. Batman meets Joker after another one of his jokes and Joker mentions having an invisible friend as a child. Could the Joker be Jack? Boyxboy fluff. A mix of the batman movies.


_**So, this fix was floating around my head for a while now and I just really wanted to get it out and see how it's received. I've always liked arch nemesis pairings and bat x joker is one of my favorites. Please be kind, tell me if you want me to continue or not and just tell me what you think.**_

 _ **Sincerely,**_

 _ **Kagenoshojo.**_

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I was six when I first heard him. It was late in the night when the crying started, and I jolted awake, confused and searching my dark room for the crying stranger. I flicked on the light but saw no one in the grand expanse of my room. No body to accompany the voice.

"Hello?" I called out tentatively. The voice hitched and immediately quieted. "Hello?" I tried again. "Are you ok? What's wrong, where are you?" The silence that followed was deafening.

"...Who are you?" The voice asked, trembling. "I-I can't see you."

"I can't see you either. Where are you?"

A cautious pause settled in the air.

"In my room...Is this a dream?" The voice questioned. "Possibly," I mused. It was rather late. "My names Bruce Wayne. What's yours?" I asked, using all of the lessons on proper etiquette that my parents had drilled into me.

"Jack, Jack Nickels." Was the whispered reply.

"Well, Jack." I smiled. "It's nice to meet you."

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That was the beginning. When we first met. We were wary of each other, not willing to open up, to share with the other voice in our heads. Then we grew closer even if we were, in reality, a great distance away from each other. We told each other things that we had never told anyone else before. I told him about my embarrassing fear of bats, he told me about his almost obsessive love of clowns.

There were many things that Jack told me but I never knew if they were true, or just little lies used to avoid sharing. I was never sure of the truth of his words, but I was sure of one thing.

Jack cried a lot.

There would be times in the middle of the night where I would wake up to the soft, broken sobs of my friend. Always soft, always quiet.

As if he was trying to hide from someone.

The first few times, I asked what was wrong; but Jack just clammed up, and I found myself speaking to eerie silence for the rest of the day. I never asked again, though I did worry and wonder what happened to my friend when we were not talking.

A year and a half past before I got my answer.

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A sharp yelp shot through my head as I skipped down the road with my parents in tow, a bag filled to the brim with candy bouncing along behind me as my small hand gripped it tight. At the worrying sound that could only have come from my allusive friend, I skidded to a stop and stood stock still, listening for any sign of what could have happened to Jack.

Whimpers could be heard. Small, heartbreaking whimpers. They made me almost want to cry as well, but no, I had to be strong right now, I had to help my friend. I kept walking, looking as though nothing had happened, but I whispered frantically under my breath.

"Jack! Jack! Are you alright? What's wrong?"

"Its...nhg...ok, Bruce. Ah! I'm fine."

I started to panic. Jack sounded like he was in pain, lots of pain.

"No its not, Jack!" I hissed back. "You sound hurt, is everything alright?" Silence was my only answer. Dread began to fill me. What had happened? Was Jack unconscious? Was he so hurt that he couldn't even speak? Then, mumbling could be heard.

"What?"

"I...I think my ribs are broken." Came the choked reply. Terror ripped at my heart. "How?" I asked, wanting to be there to help my friend. Jack wouldn't answer. "Jack!" I cried, pleading jack to trust me. "My," He paused.

"My dad."

Ice filled my veins. Turning to my own father who was walking a few paces behind me, I stared at him in shock, the color draining from my face. His dad? His dad broke his ribs? But, that's...no. I haven't got all the details yet. I should ask what happened.

"What did he do?" My voice shook. The sound of my own voice allowing me to shake off the shock, turn away from my father and continue walking. Voice cracking and filled with pain, Jack told me.

"I didn't get out fast enough." He started. "I, I knew that today would be worse than the others. That he would be even angrier. But...I had hope this time 'round. I had hope. Hope! Something I haven't had in such a long time. Something I didn't have, until I met you. You view the world with such innocence that I couldn't help but want to see it too, the world that you see. Where people are kind. Where people help.

"So I had hope, that it would be different. That he might change his mind. Realize that he's my daddy, and I need him. Not the man that hits me. Not the man that...rapes me." Jack broke down into painful sobs. I felt like I was going to throw up. I knew what rape meant. You couldn't live in Gotham and not know. It was as much a daily occurrence as the sun rising. I knew it was a bad thing to do to a stranger, and I knew that it was even worse to do it to children, but to do it to your own son? That...that's just...disgusting! How long has it been going on? How many times have people ignored Jack?

How many times have I brushed it aside because he had simply asked me to?

The innocent veil that had shielded my eyes so well from reality was ripped from where they hung. The world rushed in. The street didn't seem as bright as it had before, the people didn't seem as kind, the dark alley ways didn't seem like good places to have adventures. It was too much.

That man would pay.

A broken sob and a moaning wail cut through my thoughts.

"It's my birthday..."

My eyes grew hot, my throat scratchy, and I wept. I wept for Jack. I wept for the tragedy that is this world.

But most of all, I wept for our childhood, shattered and broken, dancing away upon the winds of reality.

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From that day forth, I was his lifeline. There for him, even if it was only in voice. We grew closer, I grew to care for him more than anyone else. We knew everything about each other. Our likes, our dislikes, our fears and our dreams. I looked forward to our little talks. I couldn't wait to hear his voice. This feeling continued to grow until it felt like it was going to blow out of my ears. In my childishness, I didn't understand what it meant, what the feeling was. I asked my parents what it meant to care for a friend more than anyone else and they shared a surprised look before smiling down at him with a knowing tilt to their lips.

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"It means that you're in love, sweety." Was their reply. My face crumpled in confusion. "But I thought that only a guy and girl could love each other. " My parents looked shocked and seemed to freeze for a second; but they recovered quickly and explained to me that boys didn't always have to like girls, it was ok to love anyone that I wanted. I smiled at them and left them to their serious talk while I started to plan out my next talk with Jack.

"Jack?" I called, hoping that the other child would be available to talk.

"Hi Bruce." Was the timid but happy reply. My heart kept as the voice echoed through my head. I couldn't help myself.

"I think I love you." The words shot out of me as though I had vomited them, and I suddenly found myself in the middle of an unbelievably tense silence.

"What?" Jack whispered, the shock evident in his voice. "You...love me? How? How could you love me?" Jacks voice suddenly became frantic. Speeding up in his panic. I tried to calm him down but it didn't even slow him. "I'm a boy! I'm poor! I'm a freak! I'm probably crazy after everything I've been through! I-I'm...I'm dirty." He finished in a quiet whisper. Sounding so very small. I paused for a moment of thought. "I love you." I repeated, sounding more confident this time. Jack nearly sobbed. "Please..." He begged. "You might hate me, you might think I'm disgusting. We haven't even met face to face yet!" I shook my head even though I knew he couldn't see it.

"I love you." I pressed. Wishing earnestly that Jack would finally answer. I could hear his heavy breaths, and for a moment, I thought that he wouldn't say anything. Then, when I was just about to give up, there was a whisper, so quiet that I nearly missed it.

"I think I love you too."

The grin that stretched across my face threatened to split it in two.

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After that, everything was great, besides the obvious moments that involved Jacks dad but we pushed through it, together. We would talk almost nonstop all day and whisper to each other at night. There were times that we got frustrated by the fact that we couldn't see one another but we found ways to calm our selves down. Me, by coaxing any details out of Jack of what he looked like and then trying to imagine him, and Jack, by finding any magazine/newspaper article or even a video clip that had me in it. I guess there's a perk to being followed around by the press.

Though we were young, we were far from naive. After my realization that the world isn't as good as I had thought it was, I tried to gain as much knowledge of the adult world as I could, not wanting to be caught by surprise again. Jack helped me with this. He told me about the lives of those less fortunate than me. He told me about the things that hid in the shadows at street corners. We learned about the lives of adults, about things that most seven year olds probably shouldn't know, but we wanted to prepare. Be ready for anything.

Apparently we weren't ready enough, because it all changed after that night. The night my parents were killed.

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I stared in pure horror as my parents dropped to the ground, felled by gunshot wounds to the chest. As blood pooled around their now chilling bodies, I looked up to see the man who had pulled the trigger. Long greasy hair, stubbly jaw and ratty old clothes that showed the man was depressingly poor.

The mans eyes flicked down to me and I reeled back instinctively. Jack! I needed Jack. I needed to tell him what was going on.

"Jack..." I whispered through pale and cold lips. There was no reply. "Jack." I whispered again, this time not waiting for a reply. "Something's happened Jack."

The man stepped closer.

"My parents are dead Jack. I-I..." I sobbed. "I think in gonna die Jack."

Another step closer.

Tears trickled down my cheeks. "I don't want to die Jack. I haven't seen you yet."

Another step.

"I haven't kissed you yet."

He was just an arms length away now.

"I...I haven't saved you yet, Jack."

The man raised his hand that was covered in dirt and had fingernails that were cracked and torn up towards my head.

"Jack. I love you Jack."

A low grumble could be heard on the other 'line'.

Jack.

"JACK!" I cried, terrified as the mans hand grabbed onto my short black hair and tugged me closer to him.

Then came the voice that had always made me smile, mumbling my name as if he had been asleep. "Bruce?"

I sighed in contentment as the voice rolled around in his head.

Jack.

"Jack, I love y-"

The man threw me and my head hit the pavement with a sickening crunch. A sound almost like static shot through my head and suddenly, I was all alone. I couldn't see anything, I couldn't hear anything.

I couldn't feel anything but the biting cold that seemed to spread throughout my body from head to toe.

No sight.

No sound.

No Jack.

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I woke up in a hospital three days later. A simple blow to the head they said. How lucky.

Unlike my parents.

They left me to rest after some tests and questions from the police and I obediently laid back down. Closing my eyes, I called out for Jack. Only static filled my head. Then silence.

No sight.

No sound.

...No Jack...


End file.
